MUSIC REMAINS

VIGOROUS poets have walked in Hanover, Walt Whitman, Richard Hovey, Robert Frost; No other college town this side of Oxford Boasts such immortal spirits. Americans all, Courageous visionaries, I salute you: Walt, brown and lean and very steady of eye, You were an excellent joke, a prank embodied, Until your poem rolled out, "As a strong bird On pinions free .. . Then startled coughs, and silence; Even the leaves stopped rustling in the elms. I see it now, the chequered shade on faces Upturned to hear your voice, all suddenly freed Of laughter, as quick death erases pain, All suddenly humbled as though second sight Had shown the stars to them in the noon sky.

And you, Dick Hovey, class of 'eighty-five, Gay, bearded boy, warm heart, I see you too, While the wind prowls about the icicled eaves, Planting an empty ale-cup on the table, Or striding out to watch the river ice Absorb invisible blows of April sunlight; You were compact entire of sun and song.

And Robert Frost, you once belonged to Dartmouth, Or, more than likely, she belonged to you Until you tired of blowing coals to flame In the small stove, cast-iron mockery That failed to heat your room in Wentworth Hall, Tired of the din of sophomores hammering Your barricaded door, tired of the Latin, The rhetoric of professors who ignored Your mischievous grin, called back your wandering mind From dreams of rose pogonias in a garden.